The Many Rewards of Saving Dogs

I shouldn't brag, but over the years I've saved at least three dog's lives. This is the story of Mr. Bubbles and his owner, Mrs. Grouch-a-lot. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. 

The first time I saved a dog was on my first day of work as a PR Rep for a new company. I had a brand new company car with white interior. It was raining and the road was very slippery. Just before I got to The Benicia Bridge, heading towards Martinez, a large stray dog was running around on the freeway. I had to save him! 

There's nothing sadder than seeing a lost dog, especially in a situation like this. He was almost ready to become a dead dog or cause a big accident. Without thinking, I pulled over to the shoulder of the freeway and got him into my car. Whoa! He was one messy, stinky, waterlogged beast, but I truly felt his thankfulness and love. It was a heartwarming experience for me. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but your gut just does its thing, and you make a decision - good, bad or dogly. 

Because I was supposed to be working and couldn't babysit him, I called the veterinarian's office that was engraved on his dog tags. It seemed to be the only thing I could do, as I'd already left a message on Mrs. Grouch-a-lot's machine.

I felt good about what I'd done, even though I was worried about the mess in the car - the brand new car! It was a disaster and so was I. Grease, leaves and muddy paw prints were all over the car, not to mention the wonderful aroma of "wet dog", wafting in the breeze. It gave me that extra confidence I needed to make a good first impression on my clients..."It's nice to meet you, Mr. Goldblatz. Pardon my scent and the filth and dog hair on my suit and briefcase. I'll be your new PR person. I'm sure we can turn your business around (or shut it down forever) when people get a load of me. As long as they can't see and have had nose-ectomies, things should go swimmingly." (or dog-paddlingly, since that's the only swimming I know how to do...).  

When I got home that evening, I received a call from the owner, the Mrs. Grouch-a-lot, who was steaming mad. I couldn't believe she was angry because I was expecting a thank you. I wanted, "What an outstanding person you are", but got, "You lousy, stinking, piece of crud." She was upset that I had taken him to the vet, forcing her to pay a $50 boarding fee. What a rotten woman she turned out to be. As a child, I was used to hearing about how stupid I was, and now I can't even save a dog in the proper manner? 

I listened to her complain for ten minutes. I remember thinking, "Okay Peggy. I guess you're just going to have to act like the man you never were or wanted to be." This would be a bold move on my part, since my natural instincts are to be the best darned doormat and person I know how to be. 

I finally got my nerve up, my thoughts together and calmly yelled, "NOW LISTEN TO ME, you, you, ungrateful cheapskate!" I went on to say (in my best James Cagney voice) "You dirty rat, you stole my girl... And furthermore, ##@blankety#!*!"blank#!+*&%!blank!" Boy, did that ever feel good! I mean, I guess it would have felt good, if I'd actually had the nerve to say it... What I really said, is below. 

I told her I thought she should be thanking me for what I did, that I risked my life, job, leather seats and clothing, just to make sure Mr. Bubbles was alright. (I hadn't even mentioned the fact that bubble gum had already attached itself to my floor mats and leather seats. So that's why they called him Mr. Bubbles!). To my surprise, she apologized to me. Wow! I guess I finally know the secret about getting a little respect in life. All you have to do is speak up. But, the next person that messes with me, better watch out. I'm a tougher, meaner broad now... At least until the next Mr. Bubbles comes around...